


Strong Male Role Model

by fightableomo



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, NSFW, Omorashi, Piss, Spanking, omo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightableomo/pseuds/fightableomo
Summary: Five is quick to point out that Luther is prey to societal structures, and as such, he respects older men. And while he mocks that, Five may fall prey to that same ideology.This is a nonsexual kink fic, please read and understand the tags before reading.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 60





	Strong Male Role Model

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pissenlit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pissenlit/gifts).



> lol, for @pissenlit for the ideas

Missions after being turned into a sniveling 14 year old were the worst. Normally he was just an older gent left alone in society. But with the Handler, he was relegated to the demeaning role of preppy son. It didn’t help that they were in the fifties as it were, and he was expected to sit pretty and behave.

They were currently stopped chatting to some man, and Five was just standing by, being seen and not heard as was customary. No one paid him any second thought, and while he hated that, it was likely for the best. 

And, it might make stepping away easier. He currently had to pee, and the Handler, nor the man would notice if he just stepped away. Maybe he could get some info on his own. So, he started to walk away from the chatting couple. 

The Handler stopped him with just a sentence. “Where are you going, darling?” 

“I need to restroom.” 

“No, you’re going to stay here with mummy. We can go find the restroom in a minute.” 

He huffed with a roll of the eyes, but did listen, trotting back to her side.

“What was that, darling?” Her voice took on that saccharine tone he hated, “Do I sense a bit of an attitude?”

“No.” he spat out, crossing his arms. 

The man gave a low whistle,“He really does have an attitude, doesn’t he?” 

Handler gives him a strained look, “He does. He’s getting to that age, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t have a good male figure to look up to,” She bat her eyelashes at the man as if suggesting that this man who was younger than him could be any sort of role model.

And off they went, back to talking. Five largely ignored the conversation as nothing of importance was being said. He mostly watched the people passing them by on the street, and worrying about his bladder. 

It wasn’t bad per se, he had held much longer. Especially when doing calculations by hand, he got lost in that so easily. But he was uncomfortable and he wanted to piss before it got any worse, now that he was forced to stay with this woman. 

And that was when a brilliant idea struck him. He wasn’t allowed to leave ‘mommy dearest’s’ side as he was supposed to be an obedient child. And who didn’t love malicious compliance.

It took a bit of concentration to get his plan moving, but after just a minute he got his flow going. First it was just a little dribble, wetting the insides of his little briefs. His body automatically clamped down at this forbidden feeling. 

But he steeled his nerves and started again. Again, just a dribble of pee escaped him before it expanded into a steady stream of hot piss. The small wetness in his pants expanded past his undies and to his shorts. 

The dark grey fabric of his shorts was conducive to showing the wetness as he intentional pissed his pants. At first, it was just a wet circle on his crotch, but as his stream grew, so did the wet patch. It traveled up the front of his shorts for a second before gravity took over and the stream streamed down his pant legs in sloppy streaks. 

His pee reached the hem of his shorts and started falling down to the pavement. Naturally, a lot of his manly waters clutched to his legs as he spilled his bladder, forcing the fabric of his shorts to similarly stick to his thighs. But enough piss pulled away from his form to splatter loudly on the pavement below, finally drawing the attention of the adults. 

The Handler practically shrieked, “What are you doing? Stop that!” 

He just smiled, knowing that the warmth of his accident was annoying her even more than it embarrassed him. 

His little smirk only served to infuriate the Handler even more. She scowled and grabbed his upper arm a bit too forcefully, “Oh you’re doing this on purpose, you little brat!” 

“Quite right,” chimed in the man, “He’s too old to have these accidents, he needs a swift slap on the wrist.” 

“I’ll do you one better,” she grumbled before dragging him off to the side, piss still streaming out of him, though he was getting to the dregs of his bladder. 

The Handler sat down on a bench nearby and pulled Five over her lap, soaked shorts and all. 

Redfaces, he started to fight, “Hey, what are you doing!” 

He was cut off by a loud slap. The pain settled in a moment later, it was the sharp sting of a swat. Something Five wasn’t unused to, but something he hadn’t felt in decades. 

“Wh-what the fuck! You can’t do this to me,” He immediately tried squirming to get off the wretched woman’s lap. 

The man who they’d been talking to reached out and put a hand on his back, “What your language son, or your mother will be inclined to wash your mouth as well.” 

He scowled at the man, humiliated that this stranger felt inclined to get involved in the spat, “Fuck off!” He still struggled to get up, all but forgetting he could just warp out of the way. 

The Handler’s hand came down again and again, and the pain built up. And rather quickly at that. 

Sure, Five was used to being shot and living in cruel living conditions but there was something about this infantile pain that hurt. 

Just as he was about to start really throwing a fit, the man who was still standing nearby spoke up, “You really should make him count, miss. Force him to be in this punishment. I know too many kids like this who just block it out. 

Five looked up at the man, rage seething in his eyes as he was forced to glance up from his humble position. He was all too aware in that moment at how red his face had gotten--with blood rushing from being face down, not embarrassment, of course. 

“Fuck off!” he spat with as much venom as he could muster. 

The man hardly seemed impressed, and in the brief pauses between Handler’s swats, he struck, bringing down his own broad hand with much more force than the blond who was previously spanking his wet ass. 

The man pulled his hand away and shook off a droplet of piss, looking quite disgusted, “What a filthy young man. You’ll do good to watch your tongue. I have half a mind to take my belt and give it to you now as you’re disobeying your mother. Now count, I say you deserve ten more solid smacks.” 

While he couldn’t see it, he just knew that Handler was just grinning like a shark. His face glowed a warm red, from anger, he now pretended. 

He got another smack, and still his mouth stayed tightly shut. Another one shortly followed, almost earning a pained grunt. 

“Count,” came the calm words of the woman who held him in her lap. 

Five bit his cheek, pride reigning over common sense. He didn’t want to get a belt, or more admonishing, but he was a grown ass man, older than both these idiots. 

While he was internally debarting his words, the man crouched down to his level and grabbed his face with one hand. “Your mother said count, son.” 

In the back of his mind, he admonished himself for wanting to listen to the stern man. He was a fucking adult. But, he knew counting would be the path of least resistance. He stopped biting the inside of his cheek and spoke up, “One.”

Despite the position he was in, he tried to make the words bite. 

The Handler just hummed, “It’s too little too late for that, dear, try again.” She accented her sentence with another slap to his ass. 

This time, he was prompt, “One.” 

Miss Handler continued her barrage on his ass, slowly warming his little tush as his piss cooled against his skin. All the while, he counted through grit teeth. 

“Seven,” Another smack fell, as was the set rhythm. 

“E-eight.” His voice finally cracked with the slap to his ass. And suddenly he felt something else warm spill from him The tears--he assumed—still felt hot against his permanently red face. 

“Nine,” he punctuated the penultimate slap with a sob that he tried to pass off as a cough, 

“Ten.” Finally, he reached the end of the hell he was in with one last spank. 

The Handler let him up, and he gladly scrambled away to swipe at his eyes, but it was too late, she saw the humiliating show of pain. 

“That’s the first thing I’ve seen to make you cry in quite some time.” 

“Shut up,” he growled, casting a side eye to the other man to make sure he wasn’t going to be chewed out. 

Handler ignored his little comment, “Let’s get going, then.” 

“What? We need to go and get me a change of clothes, I’m not going anywhere like this.” 

“Oh yes you are,” she gave him a fake confused look, as if he were being difficult for no reason, “You chose to piss your cute little shorts, so you’re going to stay like that until the end of the work day. Now let’s going, honey.” 

“Listen to your mother, y’hear?” The man inserted his will with a quick tap to his ass, reminding him of how sore his ass had gotten. 

Still bright red, Five took to mumbling curses under his breath as he went along with the Handler.


End file.
